Unshaken

Chapter 33

33

ONE WEEK LATER

She didn’t like to admit it, but dressing Plain didn’t feel comfortable any longer. Maybe it was because the dress, apron, and prayer covering she was wearing were made by a woman in the Amish community outside of Marion. Though the style of dress and kapp were the same, the light, almost vibrant blue of her dress felt foreign. The women in her community in Adams County often wore more somber clothing.

Or perhaps it was just her aunt and uncle who did?

Whatever the reason, she couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the passenger seat of Hardy’s truck.

“Girl, you’ve been shifting and fidgeting for the last seventy miles. What can I do to make you more comfortable?” Hardy asked as he continued to drive on the highway toward Bowling Green, then eventually Louisville and the Ohio state line.

Embarrassment made her neck and face heat.

“I just can’t seem to sit still. I’ll do better.”

Hardy sighed. “See, this is why I was reluctant to say anything. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You haven’t.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, just like the skin around his mouth pinched. “I wish I wasn’t driving seventy miles an hour right now. I’d give a lot to be able to study your expression when we talk.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest that they pull over at the next rest stop. She was in no hurry to go home—which was difficult to admit to herself. But she also knew that Hardy had put his whole life on hold these last two weeks. He’d also put his life—and his sister’s life—in danger. She needed to let him be.

“See, like now,” he said.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t said a word.”

“Exactly. I feel like you’ve got a whole novel of thoughts floating around in your head that you aren’t sharing.”

“If I do, it’s because those thoughts aren’t important.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. They are to me.”

Unbidden, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked, hoping to slow their descent down her cheeks. But of course, it was inevitable. One tear escaped, then two.

She swiped one with the side of a palm.

“Stephanie?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“This. I can’t take this. Hold on.” Looking angry, he clicked on his turn signal and moved to the right lane. Then did it again. Two minutes later, he was exiting the highway.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere we can talk.”

“But where are we?”

“Same answer. Someplace where the two of us can talk and I can look at you.”

What did one say to that? Nothing, she reckoned. One said nothing. Especially that’s what she should do, since her eyes had decided to become waterworks and didn’t seem of the mind to stop. So, she bit her lip and clasped her hands together tightly as Hardy slowed to the town’s speed limit, turned, turned again, and then ended up at the town’s rather rundown city square. On one end was a courthouse. On the other was a Baptist church. In between was a large field, a copse of trees which probably looked very pretty in the spring and summer months, and several groupings of retail shops. Half of them were empty.

When he parked, he unlocked the doors, then was out and at her passenger door before she’d gathered herself together.

“Come on,” he said as he held out his hand for her to take.

In the past, she would have frozen from fright. Today, she placed her hand in his without hardly thinking about it.

Because she was used to him.

Yet another wave of sadness rolled through her, dampening her spirits even further. She shivered, trying to get a grip on herself.

He noticed. Because Hardy always noticed. “Here,” he said, pulling off his old green Army jacket and placing it over her shoulders.

“Thank you.” It was warm from his body and infused with his scent. And her body responded, like it had from almost the very beginning. Emotion and desire linked and knotted together, pulling at her heart with a yearning so fierce that she ached to both pull the jacket around her more tightly ... and throw it off in order to feel his arms around her instead.

He stopped. “Stephanie, I wanted to speak with you, and not while the two of us were strapped in my truck. But it’s colder than I thought and so open. I feel like if we sit down on one of these benches, we’ll be on view for the entire population.”

She looked around and noticed something that looked like a cross between a diner and a coffee shop. It had an old sign on the top that said MANN’S, but there were a few people inside. “How about there?” she said. “We could get something to eat and maybe use the bathroom before we get back on the road.”

“Sounds good.” He stepped to her side and even pressed his hand on the small of her back as they walked.

Stephanie wondered if he was aware of it, then called herself a fool. Of course Hardy was aware of what he was doing. If she’d learned anything about him, it was that he didn’t do anything without forethought.

When they entered Mann’s, the two of them received more than a few second glances, but she supposed that shouldn’t be a surprise. Not only was it probably a rarity to see an Amish woman, but for one to arrive in a pickup truck and walk into a diner wearing a man’s jacket was likely even more noteworthy.

“You two sit anywhere you’d like,” an older man called out. “Menus are on the table. I’ll be by in a few.”

“Thanks,” Hardy said in his low voice. “What do you think? A booth over on the side?”

“Yes.” She smiled softly before leading the way. She scooted in on one side, the red vinyl squeaking as she did. Hardy did the same on his side.

They each took a menu and scanned it. To her surprise, she realized she was hungry. “I didn’t know it was so late. It’s already midafternoon.”

“The time’s gone fast for me too.”

“Hey there,” the man who’d greeted them said. “I’ll bring you some water. Y’all want anything else to drink? Coffee, soda? A shake?”

“Coffee please.”

“Two,” Hardy said.

“We’ve got soup today. Two kinds. Vegetable beef and fish chowder. The chowder’s better. You think on that and I’ll be back.”

She shared a smile with Hardy. “I wonder if he’s Mann.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s got that air about him,” he said as he continued to look at his menu.

“Do you two know what you’d like?” the man asked when he returned.

“I’d like a BLT, please,” Stephanie said.

“I’ll take one of those too. And a bowl of chowder.”

Looking from one to the other, the server said, “Want it coming right up or should I take my time?”

“Take your time,” she said before Hardy had a chance to speak.

When they were alone, Hardy leaned back. “You feel the same way that I do.”

“You aren’t anxious to return home either?” she teased.

“I’m not anxious to drop you off.” A wrinkle formed in between his eyes. “How were your aunt and uncle when you spoke to them?”

She shrugged. “About the same.”

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“They were thankful that I’m safe and glad that our ordeal was over.”

“And ...?”

“And, I got the feeling that they, too, had mixed emotions about me returning.”

“Why is that?”

She didn’t want to sound ungrateful so she chose her words with care. “I was a great help to them. But I also stirred things up, I fear. I haven’t been baptized. They don’t like that.”

“So they’re anxious for you to help them with their children but not for you to be Stephanie.”

“They’re my cousins and I love them. Being with Charity, Evan, and Hope isn’t a chore. But, yes. You described it well.” She searched her brain. Tried to think of something else to say about them. Something more meaningful. Something honest but perhaps more kind than she’d been sounding.

But once again, her head felt cloudy and vacant. Frustrated with herself, she picked up her coffee and took a sip. It was very hot and very flavorful.

“What about you?” He lowered his voice. “What are your mixed emotions?”

No. No way was she going to open herself up like that. It was just an invitation for him to stomp on her heart, and she was doing a good enough job of that on her own. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Don’t do that.” When she stared, he added, “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s hard to be so honest,” she retorted. “You must know that because you’re making me admit things first.”

“You’re right. I’m not real eager to tell you what I’m thinking, because it’s not right.”

“Maybe you should let me be the judge of that.”

“All right. Here we go. But if I make you embarrassed or mad, you have to promise that you aren’t going to do anything foolish. No matter what, you’re still going to get in that truck with me.”

“Of course I’m going to do that.”

“You better.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hardy, where else would I go?”

Hardy cleared his throat and looked at her with a mix of tenderness and fear. “I’ve fallen in love with you. That’s what’s on my mind. I want you, Stephanie. I want you to be mine. I want your heart. I want your attention. I want you to be English so I can marry you. I want you to live on the ranch, because I want to build us a house to live in there. I want us to have babies. I want to grow old with you. But every bit of that sounds pushy and almost crazy. We’ve known each other only a few weeks.”

He lowered his voice. “If that isn’t something you want, if it isn’t something you think you’ll ever want, I’ll settle for not dropping you off at your uncle and aunt’s house if it seems like they won’t appreciate you.”

Every word Hardy said sounded as if it came from somewhere deep in his heart. Or maybe her heart was where his words hit her? All she did know was that she couldn’t help but replay each word he said in her mind. He loved her. He wanted her. He wanted to marry her.

What was the right way to respond? She took a deep breath. “Hardy ...”

“Hold on. Let me finish. What I’m trying to say is that I want you to be happy. Your happiness is what matters the most. You don’t need to change for them, Stephanie. You don’t need to change for me. Or for anyone, for that matter. Because I can promise you this: You are just fine exactly the way you are.”

Somehow tears were forming in her eyes even as her mouth had gone dry. Hardy was staring at her, obviously waiting for her to respond. To say something. Anything coherent.

But her mind had gone blank.

No, that wasn’t true. She could still hear his words, each one both fantastical and heartfelt. She wanted to believe them. Wanted to imagine that his words could be true. Or, at the very least, that she could one day be accepted for just being her. Stephanie.

The woman born Amish but orphaned too soon. Who appreciated and loved her aunt and uncle and their family but also resented that they didn’t ever put her needs first.

Who’d been shot. Who’d been forced to trust a series of strangers in order to keep both her family and herself safe.

A woman who had survived, but because she had, she was also changed. No one could expect her to act as if she hadn’t gone through that. Could they?

Wait. Was that what she’d been doing? She clenched her hands together. “Hardy, I want to believe you.”

“You should, because it’s the truth.”

His certainty made her doubts and insecurities feel even worse. “I want to be able to tell you how I feel, how I really feel,” she whispered, “but I’m afraid.”

He frowned. “Of what?”

“Of how you might feel when you know the real me.” Hating each word but believing them to be true, her voice hitched. If only the Lord had made her different. How could facing a bunch of gang members feel easier than admitting what was in her heart? “I ... I’m sorry.” Her voice hitched as tears formed in her eyes.

He noticed. Because he noticed everything when it came to her. “Stephanie, hey. Don’t get yourself worked up. I don’t expect—”

“Here you go, kids,” their server interrupted as he carried a tray to the table. “Two BLTs and one bowl of fish chowder.” As he placed everything in front of them, he said, “There’s ketchup on the side and more coffee if you need it. Look good?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Hardy said.

Stephanie smiled at the man but couldn’t speak if her life depended on it.

“All righty, then.” Picking up the tray, he turned around but then did an about-face seconds later. “This ain’t none of my business, so feel free to ignore the good intentions of an old man. But for what it’s worth, my wife used to tell me that when all is said and done, the only thing that really matters is if you make each other happy.”

Hardy glowered. “Pardon me?”

If the man was bothered by Hardy’s scowl and impatience, he didn’t show it.

Instead, he just kept talking, one word sliding into the next. “When she lay in bed at the end of her days, she told me that her life became clear as she was dying. You see, doing what everyone expects doesn’t feel as good as one might think. But doing what your heart wants? Well, that fills you up and makes all the other garbage in life seem like it don’t mean a thing.” He shrugged. “Just saying.”

When he finally walked away, Stephanie automatically bowed her head, but could only give the Lord and the hands that made their food the most cursory of thanks.

The two speeches were ringing in her ears and making her thoughts run together. But even stronger was the voice ringing in her head. The one that was reminding her that it was finally time to stop putting everyone else first. That it was okay to care about others but also care about herself.

It was time to listen to the words her heart and head were speaking to her. At long last.